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WHITTIER'S UNKNOWN ROMANCE 



WHITTIER'S 
UNKNOWN ROMANCE 



LETTERS TO 

ELIZABETH LLOYD 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY . 

MARIE V. DENERVAUD ^ 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
1922 






COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY MARIE V. DENERVAUD 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



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CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION vil 

letters to elizabeth lloyd 1 

letters to mrs. nball, e. l.'s sister 66 

Milton's prayer of patience, poem by Eliza- 
beth LLOYD 71 



INTRODUCTION 

Samuel T. Pickard, in his Life and Letters of John 
Greenleaf Whittier, quotes the reminiscences of 
Whittier's Philadelphia life, written by Susan E. 
Dickenson. She says : " Among the young women to 
whom we girls looked up with interest and admira- 
tion in those days was Elizabeth Lloyd, Jr., author 
of many beautiful poems, and there was a special 
glamour attached to her, because she was under- 
stood to be one of the very few with whom Whittier 
was really on terms of warm personal friendship, 
outside of his firm and faithful comradeship with 
his anti-slavery friends." 

There had long been a tradition in the Lloyd 
family that Whittier had been in love with Eliza- 
beth; that he had wanted to marry her in the early 
days, in Philadelphia, and again, after her husband 
had died; and that it was because of this that he had 
never married. These letters, left by Elizabeth to 
her sister, Hannah Lloyd Neall, confirmed this tra- 
dition, and now it seems well that their record of 
love and friendship should not be lost. Whittier 



Viil INTRODUCTION 

says in one of the letters, "What the world suffers 
from is the lack of love, not the excess of it." The 
spirit of a love of such simplicity and purity and 
sweetness breathes through these letters, that it 
throws an added lustre on the character of the poet. 

Elizabeth Lloyd, Jr., was born in Philadelphia, 
August 19, 1811. She developed a strong literary 
talent, and wrote some remarkable poems at an 
early age. One of them, "Milton's Prayer of Pa- 
tience," published anonymously, was believed to 
have been written by Milton, and is included among 
his poems in several editions. 

At the time that Whittier was first in Philadel- 
phia in 1837, he often visited the Lloyd family, and 
he was greatly charmed by Elizabeth, who was not 
only beautiful, but witty and brilliant. In 1853 
Elizabeth married Robert Howell, who was not a 
member of the Society of Friends, and in conse- 
quence the wedding could not be solemnized in the 
Friends Meeting. Indeed, the rules of the Society of 
Friends were so strict at that time that, although 
she was married in her father's house, her parents 
did not feel that they could be present at the wed- 
ding, though most of the younger members of the 
family were there. Elizabeth was "read out of 



INTRODUCTION IX 

Meeting " for having married outside of the Society, 
but she registered so strong a protest that she was 
readmitted. Whittier says of this: "I cannot tell 
thee how rejoiced I am to hear of thy success in 
maintaining thy place in our Society. It is a very 
rare instance. I scarcely know of another like it." 

After three years of married life — a period 
"which, brief as it was, had the length of years in its 
completeness" — Robert Howell died. It was sev- 
eral years after this that Elizabeth and Whittier 
met again, and it was in this later period that most 
of these letters were written. 

While deeply attracted to each other, they were 
temperamentally very different; the romance never 
culminated, but it added a richness and under- 
standing to both their lives which was a treasure to 
them always. 

Hawthorne, in his Journal, gives this picture of 
Elizabeth: "As I was sitting in the boudoir this 
morning, Mrs. Peters came in, and said that a lady 
wanted to see me. The visitor was a lady, quite 
young and comely, with pleasant and intelligent 
eyes, in a pretty Quaker dress. She offered me her 
hand, and spoke with much simplicity of her inter- 
est in my work, and of Lowell, Whittier, James, 



X INTRODUCTION 

Melville, the scenery, and of various other matters. 
Her manners were very agreeable : the Quaker sim- 
plicity, and the little touch of Quaker phraseology, 
gave piquancy to her refinement, and air of society. 
She had a pleasant smile and eyes that readily re- 
sponded to one's thoughts, so that it was not diffi- 
cult to talk to her; a singular, but yet a gentle free- 
dom in expressing her own opinions; an entire ab- 
sence of affectation; and on the whole it was the 
only pleasant visit I ever experienced in my capac- 
ity of author. She did not bore me with laudations 
of my own writings, but merely said that there are 
some authors with whom we feel ourselves privi- 
leged to become acquainted by the nature of our 
sympathy with their writings — or something to 
that effect. Finally she rose to depart and I ushered 
her to the gate, where, as she took leave, she told me 
her name — Elizabeth Lloyd — and bidding me 
farewell, she went on her way, and I saw her no 
more." 

Marie V. Denervaud 
Boston, March, 1922 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 



WHITTIER'S 
UNKNOWN ROMANCE 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 
1 

Amesbury, 28, 8 month [1841?] 
My dear Friend, 

I did not think when I left Philadelphia that so 
long a period would pass without hearing from thee 
and thine : — but I suppose the fault will be charged 
as usual upon myself. How have you passed the 
summer? What have you read and written? What 
new combinations, beautiful or grotesque, has the 
kaleidoscope of existence exhibited? Does Eliza- 
beth Nicholson still exercise her good-natured wit 
at the expense of her friends? Perhaps, however, 
long ere this you have quarrelled with each other 
and like Coleridge's barons, when — 

"Never either found another 
To free the hollow heart from paining," 

or one or the other of you may have found a new 
object of attention, and, like Cousin Margaret and 



2 whittier's unknown romance 

Martha, have no further use for old friends! For 
who can calculate upon the changes which the 
"Whirligig of Time" may effect in three short 
months? I sometimes shudder when I think of the 
mighty interests, the changes, the life and death, 
the meetings and farewells, the joy, the agonies that 
are compressed into a single moment of time ! But I 
will not trouble thee with my serious moods, 

I have not seen Ann Wendell since I left her at 
Providence, soon after Yearly Meeting. I have 
heard incidentally that she was quite unwell at 
Newport, but delayed writing and did not know 
whether she was there or at home. Elizabeth wrote 
her some time ago, but rec'd no answer. We hope to 
hear that she has recovered from her illness. 

Before John Canellen and wife left this country, 
they persuaded me to send out to them a few of my 
poems, as they v/ished to have them republished in 
England. I find that I cannot obtain the pieces here 
which I want. Is it asking too much of thee and 
Elizabeth Nicholson to request you to copy for 
them the following pieces? — "Thomas Chalkley," 
"Lines on Receiving a Cane of the Pa. Hall Ruins," 
"The Exiles, a Tale of New England, " " The Norse- 
man," "Gov. Porter," "The New Year's Address 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 3 

for 1830 in the Pa. Freeman," " The Funeral Tree of 
the Sokokis," "The Cypress Tree of Ceylon," "The 
World's Convention," "Daniel Wheeler." If you 
could, at your leisure, copy them for me, and place 
them in the hands of some one who is coming on to 
Salem or Lynn, you will confer a favor upon me, for 
which I shall feel grateful. 

I have only time to add that both E. and myself 
would rejoice to hear from thee, whenever thee has a 
disposition to converse by letter with thy friends on 
the banks of the Merrimac. Elizabeth is sick with a 
headache, and I fear cannot write by this opportu- 
nity. 

Ever and truly thy friend. 



Amesbury, 11, 4 month, 1842 
My dear Friend E. L., 

Eureka! it is found! The package of MSS. which 
thee and Elizabeth Nicholson were kind enough to 
copy for me is at hand. Some three months ago, 
when I was away, a bundle of papers came to the 
P.O. for me: so I was told. As the postmaster said 
they were sealed up at both ends, and that he 
should therefore not let me have them as so many 



4 WHITTIER'S UNKNOWN ROMANCE 

papers, I paid no further attention to it, but left it as 
I had a hundred things of the kind before, to find its 
way to the General Post-Office. The other day I 
was in the P.O. and the postmaster put this package 
into my hands, and said it was, he believed, MS. 
and not newspapers, and I saw at once thy hand- 
writing. So that mystery is solved. Many thanks to 
you both for your kindness, and I trust I shall some 
day be able in part to reciprocate it, although I 
am afraid I am not half grateful enough for the 
pains which my friends so cheerfully take to oblige 
me. 

This letter will be taken to P. by a young friend of 
Sister's and mine, Harriet Maitland, of Portland, 
Me., a girl of fine mind. She has written some beau- 
tiful pieces of poetry, strongly imbued with the new 
Boston philosophy. I wish thee could know her, as 
well as her sister Louisa M. Sewall, of Boston, who 
is also with her at Philadelphia, in company with 
their sick mother. 

I regretted to find by Ann's letter that thee had 
not been well this winter: but art thou not glad the 
Spring has at last come? For myself I feel thankful 
for it : but our east winds here are dreadful and will 
grow worse for the next six weeks. I long to be in 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 5 

Philadelphia, mainly to see you all — but partly to 
escape these bitter blue Northeasters. 

Tell Elizabeth Nicholson that by great good for- 
tune she escaped getting printed in that Boston 
Book. It was a failure compared to our North Star 
— an utter failure. I am glad for your sakes that 
you are not immortalized in it. Your [an indeciph- 
erable word], etc., was the admiration of Boston 
folks. 

J. Story's book is, I understand, in preparation 
for republication here. What will Friends do with 
him? I am writing in a gallop, as I have only a 
moment more to spare. Has thee seen "Zanoni," 
Bulwer's new mysticism? I have read it because my 
organ of marvelousness got excited by hearing about 
it. I ought not to read such things, but I can't well 
help it sometimes. Elizabeth Nicholson speaks in 
her letter about L. and H. Hoag. Did thee meet 
them? and did n't thee like them? They are our 
best sort of folks, the excellent of the earth. 

In great haste; so pardon my blunders, and re- 
member me kindly to all the family and believe me 
truly thy friend. 

P.S. Do send me something from thy pen. I 
know thee has something written. 



O WHITTIER S UNKNOWN ROMANCE 

3 
Amesbury, 20, 8 mo., 1842 
My dear Friend Elizabeth, 

I embrace a spare moment — a lull in the unmit- 
igated gale of talk which we have had since our 
friend W. J. A. has been with us — to write thee a 
line — not, however, a letter — and if I write inco- 
herently attribute the odd ideas to W. J. A., who, 
dispite his hoarseness from a cold, has been abun- 
dant in his conversational dispensations. We were 
very glad to see him and hear directly from so 
many of our Philadelphia friends. My friends, like 
Charles Lamb's, are to me a glorious possession — 
a rich mine of wealth — calling forth from my heart 
a silent thanksgiving when I look them over in mem- 
ory as a miser does his gold, one by one passing in 
their varied beauty and goodness before me. Is it 
nothing that I have felt the kindly smile of the pure- 
hearted Follen "shding into my soul," that I have 
enjoyed the rare and beautiful companionship of 
Lucy Hooper, and of others who, though dead to the 
world, are to me living realities? Who shall set a 
value in the world's coin upon the worth of the intel- 
lectual communion I have enjoyed, and still enjoy, 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 7 

with the Channings, the Pierponts, the Longfellows, 
and the Bryants, with the Welds and Binneys and 
the Goodells, and others engaged in the cause of hu- 
manity? And my correspondence — what a comfort 
to look over old, friendly letters ! — to anticipate 
new ones! And thy letters and thy poetical sketches 
which I have, I estimate highly. They are unlike 
others — unique — the poetry of Quakerdom — 
graceful yet with a solemn beauty and reverence 
which reminds one of the Quaker gallery, with its 
fine selections from the oriental richness of the 
Scriptures. Is n't it time, by the way, for that pic- 
ture gallery of the Friends to be forthcoming? Of 
course thou art engaged upon it : as it would be very 
wrong to let my concern in the matter fall to the 
ground. 

Will Alleson wanted to make a visit to the old 
farm at Haverhill; so off we went, like Southey's 
pilgrims to Compostella. Was n't it very closely 
verging on the sublime of the ridiculous? But let me 
warn thee and thy friends not to laugh about it. 
Look upon it as a serious matter. Sister E. laughs at 
it in spite of my gravity, and thinks it altogether un- 
canonical for a saint to visit his own shrine. 

I am interrupted — I cannot even allude to thy 



8 whittier's unknown romance 

kind unanswered letter: but must find some other 
opportunity. 

In haste thy friend. 
P.S. E. read me a paragraph from a note of thine 
about "Zanoni." Thee calls it a wicked book, and I 
suppose the sin of thy reading it will fall upon my 
head. Does n't thee suppose that was the very iden- 
tical " book of Imagination " against which the good 
old Friends spoke at North Meeting last year at the 
Yearly Meeting time? 

4 

Second day morning 
William goes this morning in the seven o'clock 
conveyance, and as he will probably show thee a 
little poem of mine which I have copied for him, I 
wish to state that it was not written for publication, 
but wholly for the person to whom it was addressed 
— a Western young lady of much intelligence. I 
accompanied it with a copy of Woolman. I don't 
think I ever wrote thee of Jerryman, a friend of 
mine, a clergyman, the admirable translator of the 
beautiful and graceful German poem of "Undine." 
In a late letter to me he says: " It is beautiful to rec- 
ognize in a man who lived more than 100 years ago 



LETTEBS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 9 

the lineaments of the same divine spirit which we 
have so lately seen manifested in our loved and lost 
Follen. A sublime singleness and purity and lofti- 
ness of purpose combined with tenderness almost 
feminine equally marked these heroic children of 
God and disciples of Jesus. How glorious their un- 
compromising integrity! Did not the difference be- 
tween them consist mainly in development? Born 
in Germany in the present century, cannot we ima- 
gine that Woolman would have resembled our late 
friend, that his profound inward searchings into the 
mysterious abysses of the soul, his detection of 
things that actually differed though seemingly alike, 
his fearless separation of the detected evil motives 
mixed with the good, would all have made him a 
worthy composer of the educated preacher of right- 
eousness; yet, however different their intellectual 
culture, these devoted Christians, though divided 
in this world in time and space by a century, may 
have already met and embraced with a joyful real- 
ity of union which we are not now able to appre- 
hend." I was pleased with the sentiment, and have 
copied it, thinking it might interest thee. 

In haste. 



10 whittier's unknown romance 

5 
Amesbury, 1, 12 mo., 1850 
My dear Friend, 

A letter which I have just read from a mutual 
friend, W. J. A., has conveyed to me the painful 
news of your great bereavement and has filled my 
heart with deep sympathy with you all in your hour 
of trial. 

I know something of your feelings for I, too, have 
often felt the solemn sorrow which afflicts you. 
Alas! the shadow of the cypress falls across all our 
paths. 

From all that I knew of your honored parent, I 
have ever regarded him as a true strong man, fine in 
the performance of what he felt to be duty, in the 
church and among his fellow men at large, and with 
deep and intense affections, not the less strong that 
they were not always demonstrative. Oh, it is a 
great loss for you; but his peaceful, triumphant end 
affords the best consolation. He has passed away 
from trial and sorrow and evil times and tongues of 
unkindness and is, we fervently trust, with the 
great and exceeding peace of (jod. We feel that 
with him it is well. 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 11 

My dear sister would join me in writing, but she 
is not well to-day. Her love and sympathy are with 
you. 

We think of you all: of thy dear mother, and of 
Sarah and Hannah. What can we say but to com- 
mend you all to the love of Him who does not afflict 
willingly : and to entreat you to arouse yourselves to 
the performance of the duties which devolve upon 
you, as the best means of enduring your loss. Think 
of others; think of the suffering and sad, and if you 
can make one of these poor ones happier you will 
feel the sweet reflection of that happiness in your 
hearts. But your hearts will be better suggesters 
than I : weak, inconsistent, and erring as I feel my- 
self to be. 

Say to our friend William J, Alleson when thee 
sees him, that I am truly grateful for his kind letter, 
and that it is not the want of time so much as my 
illness which has made me seemingly neglectful of 
his correspondence. He has been a true and valued 
friend to me, and I am not insensible on that score. 
My love to him and his family. 

Thy sympathizing friend. 



12 whittier's unknown romance 

6 

Amesbury, 4, 2 mo. [1855] 
My dear Friend, 

When I received thy kind letter last winter, in- 
viting me to thy new home, I hoped long ere this to 
be able to acknowledge it in person, but a wise Prov- 
idence has seen meet to order it otherwise, and un- 
less some unexpected change takes place in my 
health, I fear I must forgo the pleasure altogether. 
The winter has been unfavorable to me, — open, 
damp and changeable, — and I dread the coming 
Spring. 

I cannot tell thee how rejoiced I am to hear of thy 
success in maintaining thy place in our Society. It 
is a very rare instance. I scarcely know of another 
like it. Appeals of the kind, whatever may have 
been their merits, have generally resulted in an en- 
dorsement of the subordinate meeting's proceedings. 

I hear occasionally from Hannah by way of 
James' sister, Lydia Rowell. I am glad to know that 
she enjoys her novel life in the strange land of gold. 

Does thee see the reports of our friend Russell 
Lowell's lectures on the English poets? They are 
very admirable performances. I must send thee 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 13 

those on Milton and the Old Metrical Romances. 
The last is full of humor and genius. 

Millburn, the blind chaplain of Congress, gave a 
very eloquent lecture before the Boston Lyceum 
a few weeks ago. He closed it by reciting thy lines 
on Milton on his blindness, with very great effect. 
The Boston papers quote with high terms of eulogy 
the stanzas of the "Philadelphia Quakeress." I 
have always regarded it as a really great poem. 
Why does thee not write more? 

We have very quiet winters here and see very 
little company. My friend Waldo Emerson usually 
makes me a visit, and I have flying calls from Whip- 
ple, James T. Fields, Dr. Bowditch, and others of 
my Boston friends. We see very few Friends out of 
our little meeting. I suppose thee knows that Ger- 
trude E. Whittier is engaged to Joseph Cartland. 
We are in hopes they will settle within the limits of 
our meeting. 

The last arrival brings the sad news of Mary Mit- 
ford's death. It was to me very unexpected. I had 
a long letter from her dated the 22, the 11 month, 
cheerful and hopeful. Somehow she seemed so full 
of life and enjoyment, so satisfied with the present, 
so hearty in her sympathy with all things about her, 



14 WHITTIEr's unknown ROxMANCE 

that I find it hard to think of her as one who has 
been and is not. Oh, this mystery of Death! How 
dark and fearful it would be but for our faith in the 
Divine Goodness. 

I am glad to see that thy husband feels an interest 
in the freedom of Kansas. I enclose a copy of some 
lines of mine, written, as Ell wood says, in a "droll- 
ing style" last summer. President Wayland, of 
Brown University, in a notice of them said they 
were worth all the sermons that had been preached 
on the subject, and that it was the only way to deal 
with pro-slavery missions. Does thee see or hear 
anything of Ann Wendell now? I write so seldom 
that I do not often hear from her. I am sorry to 
learn that Margaret's husband is quite ill. 

Pray write me and let us know all about thee and 
thine. We do not forget our old friends, and would 
not have them forget us. It would give me great 
pleasure to know thy husband (of whom everybody 
speaks in praise). Farewell, dear Elizabeth, and 
may Heaven bless thee always. 
Ever thy friend, 

J. G. Whittier. 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 15 

7 

528 Spruce St., 11 mo., 2nd 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I was sorry I did not get thy note until yesterday 
afternoon, when I could not get away from com- 
pany. To-day I am not well enough to go out in the 
rain, or I should not content myself with writing. 
I shall, if possible call on thee to-morrow afternoon. 
I cannot bear the thought of losing these golden 
moments of opportunity for communion with thee. 
Life is too short for ceremony among friends. 
Deeply grateful to the kind Providence which has 
permitted us to meet once more, I feel that I am 
not at liberty to neglect the blessing. 

I know thee will congratulate me when I tell thee 
that I have fairly eaten my way through my dinner 
and supper table engagements, and am free from 
all demands of the kind, and mean to keep so for 
the present. 

I will be ready to go to Edna Yarnall's when thou 
art ready to accompany me. I hope thy eyes do not 
trouble thee again. I wish I could cure them as thee 
did my head, the other day; perhaps if thy faith 
were as strong as mine was, I might do so. 

Affectionately, 

J. G. W. 



16 whittier's unknown romance 

8 

Second Day 
Dear Elizabeth, 

As I am not allowed to step over thy threshold 
to-day, I must needs write to enquire what prospect 
there is of my having that "counterfeit present- 
ment," which I assure thee will be worth more to 
me than a whole gallery of Old World Madonnas 
and saints. I meant to have spoken of it yesterday 
but in the presence of the original, I entirely forgot 
the picture. If I possibly can, I will see Andrew 
Longacre to-day and ascertain about it and report 
upon it to thee this evening. 

Aff— 

J. G. W. 

9 

Fourth Day 
Dear Elizabeth, 

As I cannot well get an opportunity to see thee 
this morning, I must tell thee how thoroughly I 
enjoyed my visit last evening. Thy friend Caroline 
Yarnall, surrounded by her agreeable family, seems 
to me to be a very lovable woman. She has great 
delicacy of refinement, and I was agreeably disap- 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 17 

pointed in her liberal tone and feeling. She received 
me more like a brother than a stranger, and I shall 
always remember my visit with pleasure. I wish 
thou couldst have been with us. 

Ah me ! these days glide on, and I shall soon have 
to set my face towards the sunrise. I shall carry 
with me many regrets, but many sweet and precious 
memories also. 

Affectionately, 

J. G. W. 
10 
Amesbury, 17th, 5th. mo., 1859 

Dear E., 

I write thee a single line to say that I arrived 
home last night, and found my friends well as usual. 

I have thought much of thee, Dear E., in thy 
lonely retreat, and long to know how it is with thee, 
yet I do not wish thee to write more than a line or 
two. Fatigue and a basket full of letters to be an- 
swered, as well as other duties, oblige me to be brief 
this morning. In a day or two, I will make amends 
for this. Elizabeth sends her love — of mine, thee 
needst no assurance. 

Ever affectionately, 

J. G. W. 



18 whittier's unknown romance 

11 

Amesbury, 18th 5th mo. 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I liked thy letter (most welcome I assure thee) 
but feared that thy eyes might be suffering while I 
was enjoying it. Do not, dear E., feel obliged to 
answer my letters. Write when thou canst — one 
word or ten. The very blank paper which thy hand 
has folded for my sake will be dear to me. 

I thank thee for thy words of sympathy, and for 
the thought of meeting me on the threshold of my 
home, with a word of kindness. It seemed to me 
that I felt thy sympathy; all things seemed brighter, 
and all the new burdens and cares which I took up 
hghter and easier for thy sake. 

Elizabeth, I have been happy — far more so than 
I ever expected in this life. The sweet memory of 
the past few weeks makes me rich forever. What 
Providence has in store for the future I know not, — 
I dare not hope scarcely, — but the past is mine — 
may I not say ours — sacred and beautiful, a joy 
forever. Asking nothing of thee, and with the ten- 
derest regard for thy griefs and memories, I have 
given thee what was thine by right — the love of an 



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LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 19 

honest heart — not as a restraint or burden upon 
thee, imposing no obHgation and calling for no so- 
licitude on thy part as respects myself. Nobody is 
a loser by loving or being beloved. 

I feared thou wouldst be sadly tired and sick on 
reaching Elmira, after so hurried a departure. I 
hope ere this reaches thee thou wilt be better. I 
sometimes think it would have been as well for thee 
to have spent the summer with us. Our country 
here is then beautiful — cool and bracing with sea- 
air; and we could have given thee a large, pleasant 
chamber looking over the Northwestern hills. We 
have fine drives — Salisbury Beach is only 4 miles 
away — and we might have had a delightful season. 
But it is probably best as it is. 

Yesterday I attended our little meeting, cordially 
welcomed by our friends. It was pleasant to sit once 
more with "mine own people." Bird-songs floated 
in upon us from without on breezes sweet with 
the odors of the greening spring: — the irreverent 
bob-o-link adding his rollicking "Negro melodies." 

The picture is safe in its handsome oval, velvet 
case. Meade & Co., who put it up, pronounced it 
"a beautiful face, beautifully painted." How much 
pleasure it will give me! 



20 whittier's unknown romance 

Dear sister Lizzie is not well — tired out with 
getting the girls off to Providence, and with com- 
pany which has thronged us of late. She sends her 
love, and has a grateful sense of thy sympathy. 

Don't try to write much if it pains thee to do so. 
I will write whenever I can. I have been very busy 
and am very tired. Heaven bless, and keep thee! 

J. G. W. 
12 

Amesbury, 9th, 6th mo. 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I am half sick to-day and have been so for two or 
three days past, unable to do anything but inflict 
myself upon somebody else. And, as I cannot get to 
thee in person, what better can I do than send my 
shadow? It was taken this spring by a wandering 
pedlar in our village. I thought to send it to my 
dear friend James Staye, but delayed doing so hop- 
ing to get something better until it was too late. I 
don't think much of it : and I fear thee will not, but 
there may be times when even such a ''counterfeit 
presentment " of thy friend may be welcome — or, 
as Mrs. Stowe's Candace would say, "better than 
nuffin." 

I fear, dear, thou art suffering a great deal; in- 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 21 

deed I seem to know it. May our dear Lord com- 
fort and sustain thee with a feeling that His chasten- 
ing is to heal! Dear E., let us try to trust all to 
Him, and in pain and trial think of our many bless- 
ings, and in comparing our lot with that of others 
look down instead of up. How many suffer bodily 
pain as we do, without the compensations and alle- 
viations which we have! 

I thought somewhat of attending the Yearly 
Meeting, but unless I am better I shall not. If I go, 
I shall leave to-morrow or next day. 

Excuse the brevity of this note. I will do better 
when I can. 

Ever affectionately, 

J. G. W. 

13 

Fillmore House, Newport 
12th, 6th mo., 1859 

My dear Elizabeth, 

Here I am at Y.M. I started yesterday morning 

with my sister Mary, who wanted to take her girl 

with her from the Island to Providence School. We 

got here last night at a quarter past six. The house 

is full of Friends, and a very social, pleasant time 

they seem to make of it. A jollier set than these 



22 whittier's unknown romance 

sober-dressed Quakers I never saw. The old Prov- 
idence scholars have a festival here to-morrow, and 
those who have been separated for twenty years or 
more now meet for the first time. Some Philadel- 
phia people are here — M. Cole and wife, Jane 
Pettitt, John Horton and wife, E. Nicholson, and 
others. 

I was not mistaken, then. Thee was sick. Indeed, 
I felt that it was so. Sick and sad, and I could not 
take thy hand; nor to speak a kind word to cheer 
thee, or, that failing, to sorrow with thee! How I 
wish that my prayers were availing ones! I can un- 
derstand thy feeling for I have known sorrow and 
trial, and loss, and I have a temperament very much 
like thy own, keenly sensitive and alive in every 
move. How I wish thou couldst be here to-day — 
this sweetest of early Summer Sabbaths — beauti- 
ful as that immortal in the verse of Herbert — " The 
bridal of the earth and sky " ! My friend D. A. Was- 
son is here. Does thee remember some beautiful 
lines of his entitled "All's Well" in the Atlantic 
Monthly? 

By the by, dear E., thee and Elizabeth Nicholson 
must get over that difficulty somehow. Thee can 
afford to forget and forgive all, and thee will be hap- 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 23 

pier to do so, and make all allowance for her tem- 
perament, habits of thought, and speech, etc. Do 
think of it. No matter how wrong she may have 
been, there is a greater opportunity for Christian 
magnanimity on thy part. E. Nicholson never has 
said anything to me about your separation except 
that you were no longer as you had been. I must 
have written this in the midst of noise and talking 
all about me. When I can get a quiet hour, I will 
write again, and I hope, better. 

My health is better than when I wrote last, but 
I am still suffering a good deal of pain in my side, 
and had a sleepless night last night. Courage, dear 
Elizabeth. All will be well, for all is in God's good 
hands. If thee writes within a few days, direct to 
me at the "Marlboro Hotel," Boston. 
Affectionately, 

J. G. W. 

Don't try to write long letters if it pains thee. 

14 
Amesbury, 24th, 6th. mo. 1859 
My dear Elizabeth, 

Will thee excuse my long silence? I would have 
been glad to have written from Newport again : but 



24 whittier's unknown romance 

really I had no opportunity. I left the Island on 
fifth day afternoon, with Gertrude and Joseph 
Cartland and Sarah Whittier, and went to the 
School, where I remained until yesterday morning. 
Of course I did not get thy letter until yesterday 
afternoon I found it awaiting me at the " Marlboro " 
and was truly glad to hear again from thee. 

What does thee mean by talking as thee does 
about Friends? Does thee really think there are no 
good and worthy and interesting and refined people 
in the Quaker fold? Thee has surely too much good 
sense and conscience, and too dehcate a sense of 
justice to be swayed by prejudice. Why, dear E., 
thou art a Quaker, and those who love thee best 
have learned to love thee as such. Thee owes too 
much to thy Quaker training and culture, to dis- 
own and deny us at this late day. I, as thee knows, 
am no sectarian, but I am a Quaker, nevertheless, 
and I regard the philosophy underlying Quakerism 
as the truest and purest the world has ever known. 
I care little for some of our peculiarities: but I love 
the principles of our Society, and I know that it, 
with all its faults and follies, is, at the moment, in 
the very van of Christendom : that among its mem- 
bers, at this very hour, are the best specimens of 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 25 

Christians to be found in the wide world. My rea- 
son, my conscience, my taste, my love of the beauti- 
ful and the harmonious, combine to make me love 
the society. I cannot understand thy feeling: I am 
only very sorry for it. I am well aware how the con- 
duct of certain individuals, and the general condi- 
tion of things in Philadelphia, might affect thee, but 
thy noble and generous nature could not include all 
in thy condemnation. Oh, dear E., let us cultivate 
charity, let us forget and forgive. Think how the 
dear God bears with us — how his infinite pity 
follows us, rebuking our ingratitude with blessings ! 
I saw many pleasant people, Friends and other- 
wise, at Newport and Providence. My friend D. A. 
Wasson was at the hotel where I stayed at Newport. 
We visited Mrs. Ames (wife of the painter), and saw 
her nobly modeled heads. That of Voltaire was 
wonderfully expressive of the character of the man. 
At Providence I had a visit with Gertrude and 
Sarah Tobey at Dr. Wayland's. I do not know 
when I ever met with so cordial a reception. I met 
also, Rowland G. Hazard, the intimate friend of 
Dr. Channing, and a man of great intellectual power, 
Charles S. Brooks, the best English translator of 
Goethe's Faust, and others. 



26 whittier's unknown romance 

The meeting of the old scholars and teachers of 
the Providence School held during the Y.M. week, 
was a very spirited and creditable affair. The Bos- 
ton Daily Advertiser, the organ of New England 
respectability, says that the speeches would have 
done credit to any college in the country. I was 
very sorry that [an indecipherable name] was not 
with us. 

Gertrude speaks of thee with much love and ad- 
miration. Joseph, thee knows, was always one of 
thy admirers. I have read Rush Plumley's "Com- 
pensation." It is really a beautiful poem — oriental 
as a palm tree. There are some exquisite lines in it. 

I note what thee commands about my health. I 
should find it difficult to obey thee right off, how- 
ever, for Dr. Bowditch is just now floating in the 
shadow of the Nubian temples on the waters of the 
Nile. He will be back again in a few weeks. I will 
try to take care of myself as well as I can. 

I hope thee is better thyself and that sunshine is 
compensating for thy "cloudy days." Ah me! how 
poor and weak we seem when we cannot make those 
happy whom we love! 

I shall write to Hannah Sturge. How I thank our 
Heavenly Father for the privilege of knowing and 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 27 

loving and being beloved by such a man as her dear 
husband ! 

Whatever may be thy own recollection of New- 
port, I find, dear E., that thou wast kindly remem- 
bered. I am sure if thou hadst been with us at the 
Fillmore House, thou wouldst not have found it dif- 
ficult to be pleased. 

I am sorry the picture was n't better, but the sun 
is no flatterer, and I rather think it is truer to the 
original at this time than the one thee alludes to in 
the large book. 

Ever affectionately thy friend, 

J. G. W. 

15 
Amesbury, 29th, 6th. mo. 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

Thy letter and the sunshine, after a week of rain 
and mist, came together. I am thankful for both. I 
greatly enjoyed thy description of thy morning ex- 
cursion, and the evidence it afforded of renewed 
health and spirits. I constantly find myseff wishing 
for thee in my outgoings, and incomings: I want 
thee to see what I see and hear what I hear. Out- 
ward nature seems more beautiful to me than ever, 
and the frail tenure by which I hold it is very ap- 



28 whittier's unknown romance 

parent to me. I have been sad over the sudden 
death of my old friend and associate Dr. Bailey. I 
have just written a letter of sympathy to Margaret 
Bailey. Her loss is a very great one, for he was one 
of the kindest and truest of men. 

I wish, dear E., it was in my power to visit El- 
mira. But home duties of an imperative kind now 
detain me, and I fear my health is not at this time 
equal to the fatigue of the journey. But the thought 
is often with me, and, if possible, I may see thee be- 
fore the summer is over. Shall thee not return to 
Philadelphia in the Fall? 

I am almost sorry I said anything to thee about 
E. N., for I fear it gave thee pain. It is a feeling — 
weakness perhaps — of mine that I must be on good 
terms personally with everybody, good or bad, 
pleasant or indifferent, and I want those I love to 
have the good will of every one too. It comes of my 
intense longing for harmony, and a strong need of 
approbation, which extends to my friends, who are 
a part of myself. 

We have all been " hydropathists " here for the 
last two weeks. "The rain, it raineth every day." 
To-day, however, it is fresh and bright as Eden be- 
fore Adam's unlucky bite of the apple. I enjoy it, 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 29 

but somehow miss some one and somebody to enjoy it 
with me. To-morrow we go over the river to a picnic 
at the "Laurels " — one of the most charming river 
views in the world — with a select company from 
Salem, Lynn, and Newburyport. How happy and 
proud I should be to have thee with us! 

My poor old friend Joshua Coffin, "my old 
schoolmaster," who has been ill in mind and body 
for some time, is spending the day with me. He 
fears he is not one of the elect. I tell him God will 
do the best thing possible for him and everybody 
else, that he never deserts us, and that his love is al- 
ways about us. But there is no "ministering to the 
mind diseased." 

I enclose the two items which I cut from the daily 
papers, both presenting me in a rather novel light 
to the public. The coupling my name with Robert 
and Sarah is droll enough. 

Joshua is impatient and I must talk with him. 
Do let me know how thou art in health, and what 
the water is doing for thee. The dear God love and 
keep thee! 

Affectionately, 

J.G. W. 



30 whittier's unknown romance 

16 

Amesbury, 31st, 6 mo 
Dear E., 

From the golden threshold of this glorious day I 
cannot fail in greeting thee. How is it with thee? I 
hope for the best. 

We found on Third day a large gathering at the 
Laurels, on the riverside. The company were from 
Boston, New Bedford, Salem, Lynn, and Newbury- 
port — a little too fashionable and conventional for 
that comfortable lapse into savage freedom that a 
picnic implies, but there were many of the true kind. 
The day was intensely hot, but river, trees, and 
flowers were never more inviting. We spent the 
early evening with our dear friends Margaret and 
Mary Curson, on the Artichoke, watching the sun 
go down through the great oaks, transforming the 
water into a river of light. How I wished for thee ! 
I would fain have all I enjoy with thee. 

I have only time to try to say good morning! The 
blessing of our Father's love be with thee ! 
Ever and truly thine. 

J. G. W. 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 31 

Marlborough Hotel, Boston 
9th, 7th. mo, 1859 

Dear Elizabeth, 

Soon after getting thy long letter — too long, for 
thy eyes are of more consequence than our notions 
upon the matters treated therein — I had to come 
to this wicked little city, leaving a line to thee un- 
finished at home. 

I see we cannot think alike about Friends. I am 
sorry, but it cannot be helped. Heart and soul, I am 
a Quaker and, as respects forms, rituals, priests, and 
churches, an iconoclast, unsparing as Milton or 
John Knox. But I am not going to discuss the end- 
less subject. I shall not make a red republican of 
thee, nor will thee convert me to a belief in Bishops, 
reverend fathers, and apostolic succession. I don't 
see any saving virtue in candles, surplices, altars, 
and prayer books. At the same time I am but an in- 
differently good Quaker — I take my own way, and 
Friends theirs. I don't well see how I could be any 
more free. 

We have just got through with an Atlantic dinner 
at the Revere House. Let me give thee the names of 
our company : Dr. Holmes sits one side of me, Prof. 



32 whittier's unknown romance 

Stowe on the other; next to him, Wyman, one of 
the editors; next, Edwin P. Whipple, the essayist; 
next, Underwood, another editor; then comes Mrs. 
Stowe; by her side is Lowell; opposite her is Long- 
fellow; next him is Stillman, the artist and poet; 
then comes Wentworth Higginson; and opposite me 
sits Miss Prescott, etc., etc. Holmes has been in 
the Autocrat vein. Mrs. Stowe has come out won- 
derfully. We have discussed literature, manners, 
races, and national characteristics — not omitting 
theology, for we are Yankees. It was a pleasant 
gathering, lasting from 3 to 6. When I left, Long- 
fellow, Holmes, Quincy, Lowell, and Whipple were 
Hngering over their claret and cigars. Emerson 
wrote us that he had sprained his ankle on Wachuset 
mountain, and was on two sticks like the hero of Le 
Sage's novel. For myself, I don't much like those 
dinners. At such times when I break through my 
natural reserve I am liable to say more than I mean 
— to be extravagant and overstrong in my asser- 
tions. I dare say that I have said a good deal to-day 
that I ought to be sorry for, but luckily my con- 
science does not bring any specific charge against 
me. 

I wish I could write more, but I am so weary. I 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 33 

will write when I get home, I hope more to the pur- 
pose. 

That beautiful evening thee speaks of was lovely 
here also. We both enjoyed it, unconscious that the 
other shared it. 

God bless, comfort, and direct thee dear E. Has 
Dr. Neidhunt written thee? I suppose he knows 
how thee gets along with the water treatment. 
Ever affec, 

J. G. W. 

17 
Amesbury, 14th, 7th. mo, 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I have been wishing to write ever since my return 
from Boston, but have been troubled so much with 
pain in my head and eyes that I have not ventured 
to do so. Even now, I must only say a word. I have 
been so troubled and perplexed with my brother's 
affairs, and some other matters of late that if I was 
writing to anybody but thyself, I am afraid I should 
have been inclined to pick a quarrel by way of re- 
lief. We are having delightful weather here, and I 
hope it extends to Elmira, and that thy health and 
spirits are improving under its influence. 



34 whittier's unknown romance 

My dear sister Elizabeth is quite feeble this sum- 
mer in bodily health, and still suffers under the deep 
depression which I mentioned to thee. I feel very 
anxious about her. How hard it is to leave some 
things to Providence! To trust our nearest and 
dearest wholly and unreservedly to the love and 
pity of our Father! 

I was amused by thy description of Newport and 
Y.M. I don't wonder at thy unfavorable impres- 
sion. I am sure it would have been different this 
year if thou hadst been there. 

I saw Hannah Shipley's husband, Joel Bean, at 
Y.M. He has a good deal of native delicacy and re- 
finement. I got a line from Hannah on the eve of her 
marriage. I could not but smile at thy remark about 
the food of your Sanitarium among the hills. I am 
far from indifferent to the good things of life, but 
I could live, if necessary, on the black broth of 
Sparta, or the oatmeal porritch of the Scotchman. I 
did n't board with Joseph Healy, with Sarah Jona- 
than for cook, so long for nothing. Henceforth I 
defy the fates in the shape of cookery. With the 
Scriptural injunction I "eat what is set before me, 
asking no questions." 

I had a droll matter to settle this morning. The 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 35 

good people of Haverhill have bought and orna- 
mented a large tract of land on the margin of a 
beautiful pond known as Great Pond. They wanted 
a name for it and could n't agree among themselves, 
and finally voted to leave it to me. I have been 
hunting over Indian vocabularies, and have heart- 
ily learned to pity Adam, who had so many things 
to find names for. 

I shall set thee an example of brevity in this let- 
ter. Enclosed is a notice of Dr. Bailey. "Seen and 
Unseen" is not mine. 

Take care of thyself, dear E. Let me hear from 

thee, but don't write another long letter. 

Affectionately, 

J. G. W. 

18 

Amesbury, 30th, 7th mo, 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I hope the clearing weather for the last three 
weeks has been enjoyed by thee. Here we have had 
no rain except two showers for the whole time. The 
last shower was very severe, and something of a 
tornado passed near us. 

Unhappily, neither E. nor myself have been well 
enough for a week past to enjoy the season as we 



36 whittier's unknown romance 

should otherwise have done. I have been unable to 
read or write, and even now I must apologize for not 
writing. 

In what a sad condition Napoleon III has left 
Italy! Her last estate is worse than her first. One 
cannot but pity the poor exiles and refugees who 
rallied from all parts of the world for the liberation 
of their Fatherland; thousands of them are now 
lying in hospitals, sick, wounded, and despairing. 
But the good God sees all, and the lie of Priestcraft, 
and Kingcraft cannot live forever. We have this 
promise, that He will turn and overturn until He 
whose right it is shall reign. 

Excuse this hasty note. Do not try to answer it, 
for it is not worth it. I shall write again when I am 
fit for it. 

I have just had a very kind and beautiful letter 
from Josiah Foster. I believe thee knew him. 

Aff., 

J. G. W. 

19 

Amesbury, 3rd, 8th mo., 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

Thy letter was most welcome, for I had really be- 
gun to fear thee was seriously ill. 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 37 

If there has been any change in the letters, I am 
sure there is no change in the feehng which dictated 
them, so far as thou art concerned. But I ought to 
confess to thee that the old feeling of self-distrust, 
and painful consciousness of all I would be, and of 
all I am not, and of my inability to make those I 
love happy, come back to me, the stronger, perhaps, 
that for a time it was held in abeyance. I have 
grown old in a round of duties and responsibilities 
which still govern me and urge me: my notions of 
life and daily habits are old-fashioned and homely : 
I could not for any length of time endure the re- 
straints of fashion and society: art, refinement, and 
cultivated taste please me as something apart from 
myself. Constantly baffled by illness and weakness, 
and every way reminded of my frailty and limita- 
tion, I can scarcely hope anything, but live in the 
present: enduring what I must and enjoying what I 
can, thankful, I trust, for the many blessings which 
our Father has vouchsafed, and comforting myself 
with the faith that my trials and crosses are bless- 
ings also, in another form. But I cannot, dear E., 
be blind to the fact that thee lives in a different 
sphere — that thy sense of the fitting and beautiful 
demand accessories and surroundings very different 



38 whittier's unknown romance 

from those that have become familiar and habitual 
to me. I am sure thy fine artist-nature would pine 
and die under the hard and uncongenial influences 
which make me what I am, and from which I can- 
not escape without feeling that I have abandoned 
the post of duty, without losing my self-respect, and 
forfeiting all right to be loved in return by those I 
love. These considerations, and the discouraging 
influence of illness, may have affected the tone and 
spirit of my letters. 

But above all — and I know thou wilt pardon me 
if I touch, with all tenderness, upon a subject which 
should be sacred — I feel that thy instincts were 
right as respects that very happy and beautiful epi- 
sode in thy life — that sweet, calm sufficiency and 
fullness of love graciously offered thee for a season, 
which, brief as it was, had the length of years in its 
completeness, and which still blesses thee with the 
richest legacies of memory, and with hopes that 
outreach time and take hold upon eternity. Know- 
ing myself, I have never felt that I could ever have 
been to thee what he was, whom the Great Good- 
ness gave thee. And, if, in the great happiness of 
meeting thee I seemed at any time to forget this, I 
am sure thee understood me, and knew instinc- 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 39 

lively that I would not designedly thrust myself be- 
tween thee and the memory of such a hfe and such 
love, nor intrude, otherwise than as a loving and 
sympathizing friend, upon thy sanctities of sorrow. 
It was no more than thy due to know how much thy 
unconscious influence had been to me, and how 
happy I was to meet thee again. I am sure, in the 
end, it cannot harm thee or me, to know that years 
and cares and sorrows have not estranged us, nor 
blunted our mutual sympathies. What the world 
suffers from is the want of love, not the excess of it. 
There cannot be too much of kindness and affection 
— of that large charity which will think no evil of 
its object, but good and good only. 

And now, dear E., thou wilt see that if I have 
doubts or misgivings, they belong to myself, and not 
to thee. There seems, at times, a wide space be- 
tween us, which I feel I have no power or right even 
to cross, and hence, perhaps, something of the kind 
is manifest in my letters. For myself, I have ceased 
to demand what is impossible, or to quarrel with 
what is inevitable, for I know that the definite 
Goodness must order all things well, for me, for 
thee, for all : and there are times when I am, as it 



40 whittier's unknown romance 

were, reconciled to all things — save my own sins 
and follies. 
^ This is the last day of summer, and the season 
goes out in beauty. The air is sweet and clear, and 
the sky and earth flecked and picturesque with 
clouds and sunshine. I would like to have thee see 
how the sunset looks from our hills: glorifying the 
valley, the river, and dying away in the misty At- 
lantic. Didst thou see the Aurora Borealis on First 
day evening? I think I never saw anything so 
weird, mystic, and wonderful. I wish I could for 
once annihilate distance, for I want to show thee a 
marvellous picture — a very large daguerreotype 
which the artist sent from Boston to EHzabeth to 
see, and which he values at $1000. It is the most 
exquisite thing I ever saw — face, attitude, and ex- 
pression surpassing any dream of the old painters. 
The beauty is doubtless a good deal accidental. / 
Dear sister is not, I think, any better: she cannot 
walk out much or ride without making her worse: 
and she has many cares which wear upon her and 
depress her. For her sake, how I wish that I were 
strong and well, instead of the constant invalid that 
I am ! It seems to me wrong to be sick, and I dare 
say it is somehow, for it seems so necessary to be 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 41 

well. I am better than when I wrote last, however. 

I am very glad to hear of Hannah's coming back 
for so long a visit: and hope I shall meet you all at 
the old home on Union Street, where I used to joke 
with her in the old times. 

Forgive this long scrawl, and do not imitate it in 
length for thy eyes' sake. I will try to write a more 
cheerful one next time, but, glad or otherwise, 
Affectionately, 
• J. G. W. 

20 
Amesbury, 17th, 8th mo., [1859] 
Dear E., 

I believe I wrote thee last when I was too sick to 
be a very agreeable correspondent. When one can 
do nothing but complain he should beware of pen 
and paper. I am still hardly fit for their use. 

We have had clearing weather and a good deal of 
company with it — Judge Alder and wife of Ver- 
mont, Louise Loring, widow of my old friend Ellis 
Grey Loring, and her daughter, and Wilham Lloyd 
Garrison and wife among others. We were glad to 
see them — especially Garrison, one of our old 
friends who knew us when we were children at 



42 whittier's unknown romance 

Haverhill, We talked over the old times together 
— of what life had promised us, and what it had 
given us, — compared our present views and condi- 
tions, and looked forward reverently and trustfully 
to the end, near at hand, and the great Hereafter. 
G. does not believe as I do on some points, but his 
faith, such as it is, seems strong and real. As he 
grows older he grows gentler and more charitable, 
and his old love of nature, so long held in abeyance 
by his anti-slavery controversy, and mission of re- 
form, comes back with renewed strength and keen- 
ness. 

I hope thy sister's visit has been cheering to thee, 
and not without enjoyment and profit to her. 

The country has lost a great man, and I a very 
valued friend, in Horace Mann. How fast they pass 
away! How strange it seems that I, the frailest of 
them all, remain! 

I hope to feel well enough soon to go a little jour- 
ney in New Hampshire. I shall try to persuade Liz- 
zie to accompany me, but without much hope of 
success. I wish we could by a day's ride reach thy 
place of sojourn. We are getting ready for our Hor- 
ticultural and Agricultural Exhibition, next month. 
We had the finest last year in this part of the state. 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 43 

but this year our apples are few, our grapes less, 
and our peaches none. Of pears we shall have a great 
show, and I am nursing mine for the premium. My 
Flemish Beauties have just begun "to blush on the 
side that's next the sun." 

My letter is dull and stupid as the head that con- 
ceives it, and I can only ask thy indulgence and re- 
main. 

As ever, affectionately, 

J. G. W. 

Has thee seen Tennyson's new book? I have only 
looked at it. Full of beautiful, sensuous pictures, 
but not great and deep and earnest and loving like 
In Memoriam. 

21 
Amesbury 22nd, 8th mo, 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I fear thy eyes are worse or that thou art ill, it 
is so long since I heard from thee. 

I have just returned from Lynn and Nahant, and 
am in hopes I shall feel all the better for the change. 
I saw Sarah Aldrich at my aunt's. She talked about 
Hannah and, on the whole, gave a very good idea of 
her Western home and mode of life. She said Han- 



44 whittier's unknown romance 

nah gave her a cane for me, but she was not able to 
take it with her. We hear that the Enghsh friends 
Robert and Sarah Lindsay have reached San Fran- 
cisco. It must be pleasant for Hannah to see them. 

At Nahant, Fanny Longfellow showed me some 
fine marine sketches by the marine painter Kensett, 
which the artist has left with her husband. One or 
two from Newport were very true and beautiful — 
but not as good as one in thy parlor which I remem- 
ber. 

But the pictures out of doors around the rugged 
coast of Nahant were, after all, more beautiful. A 
storm far out in the ocean drove the waves high and 
white upon the rocks, and far up the glimmering 
beaches, and under the bright summer sun (for on 
shore it was perfectly fair and clear). If I were a 
painter I should despair of making a picture of such 
a scene as I looked at from the outermost crag of 
Nahant, where the waves rolled in with the mighty 
force of the Atlantic. 

Margaret Bailey is very anxious that I write regu- 
larly for the Era. Indeed, she seems to depend upon 
it. But I really cannot undertake it, as my health 
is not equal to the exertion, and I am advised against 
attempting it. I am sorry I cannot materially aid 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 45 

her, but I have done a great deal more in times 
past for the Era than my health and my interest 
pecuniarily warranted. In fact, I have been unjust 
to myself in the matter. 

We are having the most perfect summer weather 
— clear, cool, and dry. For the first time for four 
years in this part of New England the ground is dry 
enough to lie down upon with entire safety. My 
good friend H. J. Newhall and daughters are at 
Lynn and will visit Amesbury the last of this 
week. 

Has thee read the "Idyls" yet? I have just got 
Kingsley's new volume, "Good News from God." 
I see he takes the same view I do of the ultimate 
triumph of good and the end of all evil. The cross 
of Christ, he says, is as deep as hell and high as 
heaven. 

I do not wish to tax thy eyes, but shall be glad to 
hear from thee if but a line, as I am afraid that sick- 
ness prevents thee from writing. 

Ever and affectionately, 

J. G. W. 



46 whittier's unknown romance 

22 

Amesbury, Sixth day 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I think of starting for a little trip in the country 
for a few days, and write a hasty line. 

My last letter was, I am sure, a very weak and 
foolish one. But the truth is, I have been too ill to 
write otherwise; and I so deeply feel my inability 
and good-for-nothingness that I could not help 
confessing the consciousness. 

Hannah J. Newhall and daughters spent a part 
of two days with us last week and have just left 
Lynn for Philadelphia. Did I tell thee that Cousin 
Sarah Whittier, of Providence, was to visit Phila- 
delphia in the tenth month? What is thy prospect 
of return to the city? and when does thee expect 
Hannah's arrival? I enclose a little account of the 
naming of my native park in Haverhill. I could not 
be present, but sent an apology. Heaven bless and 
keep thee, dear E., and think of me as thy affec- 
tionate 

J. G. W. 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 47 

23 

Amesbury, 28th, 9th mo, 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

This is the day of our annual festival of fruits and 
flowers — a bright, glorious autumn day. Our hills 
and woods never looked more lovely, and I always 
wish, when I hear or see anything beautiful, that 
thee could see and hear with me. I enjoy it, al- 
though last night was the first for several days that 
I have been able to sleep — owing to neuralgic 
pains and nervous prostration. I am ''weak as a 
yielding wave " bodily and mentally this morning, 
but hope to be stronger soon, as the severe pain has 
left me. I think of thee and how much thee must 
suffer in this way. The mere ache is a trifle, if it 
did not affect the nerves and temperament. If one 
could only keep the mind serene and calm over 
all! 

Neither my sister or myself are able to go to the 
exhibition to-day, but I had the pleasure of aiding 
in the preliminary arrangements. I enclose a little 
piece which was sung at the Festival. The piece is 
not very brilliant, but it was luckily written before 
I was so ill, or it would have been still poorer. 



48 whittier's unknown romance 

I suppose thou wilt soon think of returning to 
Philadelphia. I hope thy summer sojourn among 
the hills has really benefited thee, and that thee 
will carry back with thee to thy home the warm 
light and the sweetness of the meadows and the wild 
flowers for winter solace. 

Thine of the 27th just received. It is as I feared 
— thee has been sick. I am glad thee thinks of re- 
turning at once to P. and that Hannah is looked for 
so soon. Do give my love to her, and tell her I shall 
hope to see her erelong, if my health permits. I 
have not read "Adam Bede" yet or "Bitter-Sweet." 
The truth is, my head and eyes have been unfit for 
reading much for some time past, and, Lizzie being 
in the same predicament, we cannot keep pace with 
the literary novelties. How well I can understand 
thy own deprivations now! I will get the book of 
Dr. Holland; I know him and like him much as a 
man. Emerson has been laid up with lameness this 
summer, but is now, I believe, out again. Shall I 
send him to thee when he comes to P.? 
Ever and affectionately, 

J. G. W. 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 49 

24 

Amesbury, 6th, 11th mo,, 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I was something more than glad to get a Hne from 
Sarah, and especially glad to hear so good an ac- 
count of thy general health. I think the mountain 
air should have at least as much credit as the water 
and starvation — the "hunger cure," as I think 
some German experimenters called it. 

I surely sympathize with your grievous disap- 
pointment in Hannah's non-arrival. Why did she 
fail to come? I presume you got some explanation 
by mail, and trust it is nothing serious, and that she 
will soon be with you. For myself, I have been quite 
ill, and am still troubled with pain in my side and 
head, but am better, and hope to be able to get 
about and do something. I have not been able to 
write for weeks beyond a mere note or brief letter. 
This sad affair of Harper's Ferry has pained and 
troubled me exceedingly. It is time for all to pause 
and enquire with what feelings and motives they 
have acted in the great controversy between Free- 
dom and Slavery. Who ever fans the flames on 
either side from mere selfishness and for party ends 
assumes a fearful responsibility. I made several 



50 whittier's unknown romance 

attempts last week to write out my thoughts on the 
subject, but was compelled to give over from sheer 
inability to exert mind or body. It seemed to me 
that nobody said precisely the right thing, and that 
I could and must say it. I have just got Henry 
Ward Beecher's discourse, and feel a great relief. 
It is the right word from the right place. Do read it 
if thou hast not. 

After a long dull season, we are now on the verge 
of winter, enjoying a faultless day of Indian sum- 
mer, as warm and genial as May. How I wish I 
could show thee how lovely our river valley looks in 
the mellow light. The cold winds and rains have 
scattered the frosted foliage mostly, but the oaks 
still retain their many shaded brown leaves, and 
here and there a rock maple still flowers through 
the grey nakedness of the woods. It is still as a 
dream — one of those days which seem specially 
sent to assure us of the love of God. 

The Atlantic Monthly has fallen into the hands 
of Ticknor and Fields, the right men to pubHsh it. 
Does thee never write nowadays? I wish thee would 
let me have something for the Monthly. With such 
gifts as thine, such powers of expression, how is it 
possible for thee not to think and write? 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 51 

Tell Sarah how much I am obhged to her for her 
kind letter. If thy eyes permit thee I should be 
glad to hear from thee, if but a line — but a word. 
From here, in this north-eastern nook, my thoughts 
are wandering towards Philadelphia, and memory 
is ever recalling the pleasant picture of the past. 
Affectionately thy friend, 

John G. Whittier. 

25 
Amesbury, 14th, 12th mo., 1859 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I send by to-day's mail Ruskin's Styrian story of 
"The King of the Golden River." I read it with 
something of the old boyish feeling of enjoyment, 
but, like the woman George Fox tells us of who had 
no stomach for her meat and ale unless she could 
eat and drink with him, I could not help thinking 
how much more I should have enjoyed it with thee, 
and thy sisters. If you have not read it (and I hope 
you have not) I am sure the story and the fine word- 
painting of Ruskin and the quaint conceits of his 
artist-friends illustrating it as a labor of love, will 
please you. 

I enclose with it a photograph from a crayon by 



52 whittier's unknown romance 

Swain, suggested by a little poem of mine, "The 
Barefoot Boy." It is very good. 

And so Hannah is with you, come back to the old 
home, in health and with richer specimens of Cali- 
fornia products than the mines have ever furnished. 
I heard of her through Bayard Taylor, who spent 
last second day with us, who described her as very 
bright and witty. How pleasant it must be to you 
all! 

We are having terrible weather here — a wild 
snowstorm every other day and as cold as Green- 
land between. My sister and I have both suffered 
a great deal with the change from the autumn to 
winter, but hope when the struggle is over between 
the seasons, and steady cold weather sets in, we 
shall be better and able to get out more. As we 
cannot read or write much, these long dark days 
are very tedious. 

Thee does not say how thy eyes are since thy 
return — better, I hope. 

With kind remembrances for Hannah and Sarah, 
and hoping to see you all in the early spring. 
Affectionately, 

J. G. W. 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 53 

26 

Amesbury, 29th. 2nd mo, 1860 
Dear Elizabeth, 

It is very long since I have heard from thee. I 
have been confined at home all winter, too ill much 
of the time to write, — so depressed, that I feared 
giving thee more pain than pleasure if I had been 
able, and unwilling to burden thee with my problem 
when I knew thou hadst thy own to bear. A com- 
pHcated nervous affection, combined with the old 
trouble in my head and stomach, has rendered me 
so much of an invalid that the slightest change of 
weather, any extra physical or mental exertion, or 
responsibility is sufficient to entirely prostrate me. 
I am compelled to avoid, as far as possible, all 
excitement and mental labor as the only condition 
of preserving anything like quiet and self control, 
and of obtaining relief from pain. It seems some- 
times rather hard — this powerlessness, this pro- 
tracted hopeless inability to do — not only on my 
own account, but of others — but I earnestly try 
to be patient and to make the best of my allot- 
ment. 

It must be that I needed the lesson — that I pre- 



54 whittier's unknown romance 

sumed too much last year upon my temporary relief 
from illness. I did wrong, I now see, in yielding to 
my feelings so much — in giving pain when I most 
desired to give happiness. If so, dear friend, forgive 
me, and think kindly of me for I can never think 
otherwise of thee. Let me, at least, have the privi- 
lege of sympathy in thy efforts to live nearer to 
our Divine Master, and to seek the consolation of 
Him who has been touched with the feeling of our 
infirmities. 

I want to ask a favor of thee. My publishers wish 
me to prepare my recent poems for publication. If 
I feel able to prepare and review them, I want the 
privilege of dedicating them to thee. If thee feels 
any objection to it, of course I shall not urge it, but 
I do very much wish to. I will send thee a copy of 
what I would like to say. I know and appreciate 
thy delicacy and unwillingness to invite any un- 
necessary display, but somehow I have set my heart 
upon it — still do not hesitate to let me know if thee 
disapprove it. I shall, I dare say, admit that I am 
wrong and thee right about it. 

Poor EHzabeth has been and still is very much of 
an invalid. Of course we are not likely to help each 
other's spirits. I try very hard to be cheerful, and 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 55 

sometimes, like Mark Tapley, in Dickens, I succeed 
in being jolly "under creditable circumstances." 
It must be a real comfort to thee to have Hannah at 
home, with her ready resources and conversational 
brilliance. She has lived a large, free life, in that 
wonder-world on the Pacific, and I am sure she 
must have much to tell of it. 

I send thee the fourth annual report of the Indus- 
trial School for Girls — one of our Yankee notions 
that I am sure thee will feel interested in. It is a 
noble effort in the right direction. 

I am pained to hear of Anna Nicholson's death — 
poor Elizabeth, her sister, must have felt it very 
much. 

With much love to all, as ever. 

Affectionately, 

J. G. W. 

27 

To thee, dear friend, who, when the popular frown 

Darkens around a toiler, faint and worn, . 

In fields which since have Freedom's harvest borne, 

Where they who bind the sheaves of party, now. 

Have scarce forgiven the rugged breaking plough 

And early sowers whom they laughed to scorn, 

Wert of the few in all the scoffing town 

Who, as his vouchers, spake the words of cheer 



56 whittier's unknown romance 

Which hnger longest on a grateful ear — 
Count it not strange, if even now I bring 
My tardy gift — no garlands of the Spring, 
Woven of tender maple leaves and set 
With wind-flower, apple-bloom, and violet, 
But Summer's latest flowers and leaves full grown, 
And seeded grass, and roses over blown. 
Thou, who hast sung for Milton, blind and old, 
A song of faith the bard himself might own. 
Wilt pardon words of Freedom over bold: 
And, not unmindful of the grave discourse 
We sometimes dared with reverent lips to hold. 
Take up the burden of my serious verse, 
And lend thy ear to its low thoughtful tone. 

Amesbury, 20th, 3rd mo. 
Dear Elizabeth, 

Thy kind, noble, generous letter was most wel- 
come. I feel that much of what thee says of my way 
of living is right, and will try to profit by thy advice 
and "prescriptions." But I have a very small capi- 
tal of strength to begin with, and but a limited 
amount of hope to supply the deficiency. My 
present illness is only what I have suffered from 
childhood but I am now less able to bear it. I shall 
do all I can to regain — not health and vigor, for 
that I cannot expect — but a condition of ability to 
be worth something to my friends and the world. 
I ride out when I am able, and the weather will 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 57 

permit, and hope to profit by it as the season ad- 
vances. 

The day I got thy letter we were dreadfully 
shocked by the death (by his own hand) of a neigh- 
bor and dear friend, to whose kindness and love we 
owed much. A genial, generous, warm-hearted man, 
the derangement of his wife, and other troubles 
broke him down and destroyed the balance of his 
mind. Elizabeth and I had been very anxious about 
him weeks before. He was greatly beloved: at his 
funeral the great congregation " lifted up their 
voices and wept." We have not got over the shock : 
it overpowered me for the time. I believe I sent 
thee a paper with a notice of him. 

Thee sees what I have written — I have with- 
held much that I would have liked to have said. 
The book will be divided into two distinct parts — 
one of local ballads, & the other of my poems and 
lyrics, which I regard as my best. It is these latter 
which I wish to associate with thee. Is there any- 
thing objectionable in the lines? Would thee object 
to the use of thy name, or the initial of it? I should 
prefer the name as an open, manly expression of 
grateful interest. But, of course, I defer to thy bet- 
ter judgement; and if thee has any scruple as to the 



58 whittier's unknown romance 

whole thing, — if it seems to thee not agreeable in 
any way, — do not hesitate to say so, I rely on thy 
frankness. I enclose a little poem which I am sure 
thee will like. After reading it, be good enough to 
send it to Samuel Rhodes for the Friends' Review. 
I notice the death of Edward Yarnall. Was he the 
husband of thy friend Caroline? It must have been 
a sad bereavement. Will thee remember me to her? 

I suppose Spring has reached your favored city. 
Here there are no signs of her, but her heralds the 
bluebirds are singing of her coming. The snow has 
recently gone, and we have had some warm bright 
days. 

I must send thee a poem of mine in the Independ- 
ent: it may remind thee of some of our conversa- 
tions. 

This is a dull letter: I am ashamed of what may 
seem like complaining, for God has been good to me, 
the world has been kind beyond my deserts: better 
men than I have borne pain and weakness cheerfully 
and bravely, and I will try to imitate them, holding 
fast my faith in the Divine goodness, and rejoicing 
in the love and friendship which blesses me, and the 
opportunities still afforded me to do good. 

I have obeyed thee as to thy letters — reluc- 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 59 

tantly, but with a feeling that thee had a right to 
their disposal. Perhaps — in the uncertainties of 
life — it was best. With much love to thy family, 
Ever and affectionately, 
J. G. W. 
I do not hear how thy health is, or whether thee 
suffers so much with thy eyes. Do speak of thyself. 

28 
Amesbury, 9th, 8th. mo., 1860 
Dear Elizabeth, 

Thy first day occupation in writing me was par- 
donable in view of the most rigid orthodoxy, for, if 
not a work of necessity, it was of mercy. It was 
pleasant to get an idea of thy mountain home and 
way of life — to follow thee up the side of Wachu- 
set, and look with thee upon the heart of the old 
Commonwealth, throbbing with sunamer heat below. 

I have been looking for Hannah for the last three 
weeks, every few days hearing that she was about to 
come. I am almost afraid that I shall somehow miss 
her, as I shall have to leave home, if I am well 
enough this week for some days. 

I like Thomas Chase and his wife very much. We 
had a flying visit from them. Thomas has a great 



60 whittier's unknown romance 

deal of real refinement, and is, I think, far superior 
to any young man in our society in respect to talents 
and culture. 

They had a nice little dinner to Hawthorne in 
Boston the other day to welcome him home after 
his long absence. Emerson, Lowell, Whipple, 
Fields, Longfellow, etc. were present. I was not 
able to be with them, much to my regret. Does 
Lucy Chase spend much time at Wachuset this 
summer? She told me you had such pleasant times 
together in the early Spring. 

I have been hoping that Elizabeth would be well 
enough to leave Amesbury and spend some weeks 
with her friends Mrs. Pitman and Mrs. Sewall in 
Reading and Melrose; but she is very feeble this 
summer, and a ride in a chaise of three or four miles 
greatly fatigues her. We have two of my brother's 
children with us, and a good deal of company, 
strangers mostly, whose "continual coming" pre- 
vents us from having the pleasure of our friends' 
visits. "If," as the old song says, "they would only 
let a body be." One hates to be stared at, and put 
on exhibition. I hope to be able to get away, and 
would like to look in upon you at some time and sit 
under the shadow of Wachuset. 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 61 

I have been trying to write some political essays, 
but my head and eyes have failed me, and I am now 
obliged to forego all reading and writing as far as 
possible. I can do little more than sit in the shad- 
ows, and enjoy all I can of the abounding beauty of 
the season. 

In my next I dare say I shall be able to give thee 
some account of Hannah. She is now daily ex- 
pected. 

Excuse the brevity of this letter. The thermome- 
ter is at 90, and I am sure if it is as hot at Wachuset 
thee will have no more strength to read than I have 
to write. So goodbye for the present, affectionately, 

J. G. W. 

29 
Amesbury, 19th, 9th mo., 1860 
Dear Elizabeth, 

I have delayed writing a long time in the hope like 
the Irish letter writer to carry my letter myself. 

In the first place I was a delegate to the Worcester 
State Rep. Convention, and I started to go to it but 
was so ill at Lynn that I had to return. Afterwards 
I returned to Lynn, expecting Hannah would ac- 
company me, but could not arrange matters as re- 



62 whittier's unknown romance 

spected her children, and dared not risk them with 
the "Mumps" at Princeton. I thought of going on 
nevertheless with W. Spooner, but a recurrence of 
illness compelled me to give up the trip. Last week 
I thought of visiting thee and taking Emerson on 
with me, but I have been affected with a cold which 
has settled on my lungs, and I am as hoarse as any 
raven that ever croaked. 

I was not sure till I got thy letter that thee was 
still at P. I am glad thee liked my "Ballads," and 
especially my favorite one "My Playmate." Thine 
is indeed "The sweet approval that is more than 
fame." Also "The Witch's Daughter" is a tale of 
our own neighborhood. Hannah will tell thee that I 
showed her the place where the Witch's house stood, 
on the margin of the river. 

We were so glad to see Hannah. I did my best to 
make her visit to Amesbury pleasant, but my own 
and sister's illness prevented me from enjoying it so 
thoroughly as I should otherwise have done. But it 
was a very pleasant episode in our life to meet her 
and talk the old and the new times over, and to 
show her our streams and hills. If thee comes to 
Salem I shall see thee. When does thee expect to 
leave Princeton? I had a pleasant "forgathering" 



LETTERS TO ELIZABETH LLOYD 63 

a few days ago with Charlotte Cushman and Miss 
Stebbins, the artist. Charlotte is a great woman, 
with a large heart, and a reformer of the better 
stamp. I wish I could show thee a photograph Miss 
Stebbins gave me of the "Miner." The statue is a 
happy mingling of the classic ideal and the homely 
Yankee reality — Mercury, in cotton shirt and 
trousers, bearing his pick in place of the Caduceus. 

My poem in the forthcoming Atlantic is, I fear, a 
little complaining, in its tone. I could not well help 
it at the time. It is not, however, markedly so. 
Thee will recognize it in ''The Summons." 

Thee ought to stay to see October throw her 
crown upon the Wachuset woods. Let me hear from 
thee, and believe me, 

Affectionately, 

J. G. W. 

30 

Amesbury, 1st. mo., 13th, 1864 
My DEAR Friend, 

I was doubly glad yesterday to see thy initials on 
the envelope of the pamphlet sent me, and to find 
such a noble and honest utterance on the Slavery 
question in the very highest place of the most con- 
servative Church in the land. I felt, I hope, truly 



64 whittier's unknown romance 

grateful to God, for such a marvellous change. I 
have, as thee knows, spoken with severity of the 
position of the Episcopal Church, but if that church 
will only come up to the standard of the sermon be- 
fore me, my praise will far outweigh my censure. If 
thee knows the author of the sermon, pray thank 
him from me for his most eloquent and manly 
words. 

I had a letter from Hannah a few weeks ago. She 
seems in better spirits than when she wrote last. 
She enjoys the society of San Francisco — her 
mountain hermitage was too solitary. 

I wanted to be at the Philadelphia A.S. meeting 
last month — the 30th anniversary of the Ameri- 
can Anti-Slavery Society — but was not able to go. 
My health is not as good as when I last saw thee, 
and in addition to the pain in the head, I have a 
lung difficulty which has troubled me for some time. 
My poor sister is very ill, suffering great pain — a 
spinal trouble which confines her. 

With much love to thy mother and sister Sarah, 
and with the warmest wishes for a happy New Year 
to thyself, 

I am cordially and gratefully thy friend, 

John G. Whittier. 



MONADNOCK 

Seen from Wachuset at Sunset 
I would I were a painter for the sake 
Of a sweet picture, and of her who led, 
Fittest of guides, with light but reverent tread, 
Into that mountain mystery. First a lake, 
Tinted with sunset: next the wavy lines 
Of far receding hills, and, yet more far, 
Monadnock lifting from his belted pines 
His rosy forehead to the evening star. 
Above us purple-zoned Wachuset laid 
His head against the west, whose warm light made 
His aureole. And o'er him sharp and clear, 
Like a shaft of lightning in mid-launch delayed, 
A narrow colored line, barbed and shone upon 
By the fierce lustre of the sunken sun. 
Menaced the darkness with its golden spear! 



LETTERS TO MRS. NEALL, 
E. L.'S SISTER 

1 

Amesbury, 8th, 11th mo., 1860 
My dear Friend 

I told E. that we must write thee to-day, but she 
is not able to do her part, so I will just say a word to 
thee merely as a prelude to a letter erelong. We 
were heartily glad to get thy kind letter and have 
read it over several times — a proof of our estimate 
of it and thee. The truth is, thy visit to A. was the 
pleasantest episode of our last year's life; and I am 
sure it did Elizabeth good. I was so sorry to be so 
miserably ill when I parted from thee at Lynn. I 
should have been more than glad to have introduced 
thee to Longfellow. By-the-bye, Charles Sumner 
was pleased with thy call on him and evidently en- 
joyed it, as did also Dr. Holmes. Longfellow I have 
not seen, but I am sure he thought it all right. 

I have been unable to visit Boston for some 
weeks, but am now better somewhat, and hope to 
go soon. I spent a pleasant day with Emerson this 
Fall, in company with Charlotte Cushman, who, 



LETTERS TO MRS. NEALL, E. L.'s SISTER 67 

apart from her actress vocation, is one of the noblest 
of women, a warm aboHtionist, and friend of all 
good causes. 

I suppose Elizabeth has not yet returned from 
Baltimore. I was greatly disappointed in not being 
able to visit her at her mountain eyrie, at Wachuset. 
E., I fear, was not made for a Quaker, and I cannot 
find it in my heart to blame her for living out her 
nature with its love of all beauty and harmony: and 
I hope and believe she has self-poise enough to sus- 
tain her in her newly found freedom. She has a 
deeply religious nature, but it seeks expression in 
other forms and symbols than those of her early 
faith ; and circumstances have made her a little un- 
charitable towards the "plain Friends." Time will 
correct all that. As she sees more of her new asso- 
ciates, she will discover that human nature is very 
much the same, in the Episcopal canonicals, as in 
Monthly Meeting uniform. 

I am glad thee did not go away this fall, it must 
be so pleasant for thy mother and sisters to have 
thee with them. I wish I could say that sister and 
I could visit Philadelphia this winter, but I dare 
not look forward to it as a probability. 

Well, the election is over — Lincoln is elected ! 



68 whittier's unknown romance 

The slave power rebuked for once. I do not feel like 
exulted: I am not yet sure that we have gained as 
much as we hoped. But I do feel grateful to our 
Heavenly Father that he has permitted me to see 
this day. I enclose one of our ballots, by which thee 
will see that I am one of the Electors chosen for our 
State. 

My eyes and head forbid my writing much more. 
Elizabeth will be glad to write thee when she is able. 
Give our love to thy dear mother and to Sarah and 
Elizabeth. 

"God bless you!" Our prayer is. 
God keep you, whose care is 

So tender and true: 
Old friends! — We forget not, 
Old friends! — We have met not 

Friends dearer than you! 

Ever and affectionately, 

John G. Whittier. 

2 

Newburyport, Mass., 1/21, 1891 
My dear Friend, 

I was glad to receive thy kind letter and grateful 
for it. Very few of those I knew when I was in Phil- 
adelphia in 1838 are now living, and as friend after 



LETTERS TO MRS. NEALL, E. L.'s SISTER 69 

friend passes into the solemn mystery I feel like 
drawing closer to those who remain. I never forgot 
thy visit to Amesbury when my dear sister was liv- 
ing: and every letter of thine has been very wel- 
come. I wish it had been our lot to live nearer each 
other. There have been many times when I have 
longed to see and talk with thee upon matters in 
which I felt sure we had a common interest. 

I have been rather more feeling the years of late, 
and have had Mrs. Thrale's ''three warnings." My 
hearing is very imperfect, and my sight is rapidly 
failing. I can read but little and my pen writes 
without much help from my eyes. The cold weather 
confines me indoors almost entirely. I am stopping 
now with my dear relations Joseph and Gertrude 
Cartland, for a few weeks. Oak Knoll is now 
blocked with snow and ice, and the sidewalks are 
better cared for here than at Amesbury. I still keep 
my room at Amesbury. Judge Gate and his wife 
keep house there, and I like to go back to the home 
of my mother and sister. I spent a month last 
summer at Eliot, Maine, on the Piscataqua River, 
which was my only outing. I have had rather too 
many visitors everjrwhere and I have not strength 
to bear the strain. At my birthday I had hundreds 



70 whittier's unknown romance 

of letters and telegrams, most of which I have been 
quite unable to answer, I need rest most of all. I 
am thankful for the good will of others, but I prefer 
to wait quietly for the final call, which is near, and 
which I await with a sense of my frailties and errors 
but with a steadfast trust in the abounding mercy 
of God. 

I sent thee a few days ago, a little book contain- 
ing some poems written during the past two years, 
privately printed for my friends alone. 

Dear Friend of many years, my heart goes out to 
thee with earnest wishes for thy welfare and happi- 
ness. The Lord bless and comfort thee ! 

Affectionately, thy aged friend, 
John G. Whittier. 



MILTON'S PRAYER OF PATIENCE 

By ELIZABETH LLOYD 

I am old and blind! 

Men point at me as smitten by God's frown, 

Afflicted and deserted of my mind: 

Yet I am not cast down. 

I am weak yet strong! 

I murmur not that I no longer see: 

Poor, old and helpless, I the more belong 

Father Supreme, to thee. 

merciful one! 

When men are farthest, then art thou most near: 
When friends pass by, my weakness shun, 
Thy chariot I hear. 

Thy glorious face 

Is beaming towards me, and its holy light 
Shines in upon my Lonely dwelling place, 
And there is no more night. 

On my bended knee 

1 recognize thy purpose clearly shown 

My vision thou hast dimmed that I may see 
Thyself — thyself alone. 

I have naught to fear. 
This darkness is the shadow of thy wing 
Beneath which I am almost sacred — here 
Can come no evil thing. 



72 whittier's unknown romance 

Oh! I seem to stand, 

Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been 
Wrapped in the radiance of thy sinless hand 
Which eye hath never seen. 

Visions come and go. 

Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng, 

From angel lips, I seem to hear the flow 

Of soft and holy song. 

It is nothing now. 

When Heaven is opening to my sightless eyes. 
When airs from Paradise refresh my brow. 
The earth in darkness lies. 

In a purer clime. 

My being fills with rapture, waves of thought 
Roll in upon my spirit — strains subUme 
Break over me unsought. 



THIS EDITION IS LIMITED TO THREE HUNDRED 
AND EIGHTY-FIVE COPIES PRINTED AT THE 
RIVERSIDE PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A., OF 
WHICH THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY ARE FOR 

SALE. THIS IS NUMBER. . .^<fc?. . . . 



N^a^ 



^r:^ 



